


Lil' Minx

by PeetaPan



Category: The Last of Us
Genre: Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fingerfucking, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, she's an unspecified age over 18 in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-06 06:36:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5406725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeetaPan/pseuds/PeetaPan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Joel has an existential crisis, and Ellie gets fed up with trying to seduce him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lil' Minx

**Author's Note:**

> unbeta'd, lemme know if you see any typos

He didn’t want to love her. He didn’t want to love anyone. But she stuck to him like pollen. The more he tried to brush her off his cuffs, the more she spread, taking root in his veins, threatening to suffocate. Every breath crowded his lungs, sticking to the tongue – too sweet, too heady. But not enough to sicken – just to addict.

He didn’t know when exactly it happened. One day, he woke up, and she was a woman. The more he tried to pinpoint the moment, the more he realized – she’d always been a woman. Strong, hearty, beautiful – independent. Only now, her body had caught up. It haunted him, wondering just how long he’d loved her, wanted her. Before sleep, the thoughts would plague him, because he _knew,_ deep in the dark corners of his heart, he’d always wanted her. It was the reason he’d hated her so much at first. Not because of Sarah, but because her heart, her spirit called to him. He was a hopeless sailor, drawn to the rocks of her siren call.

And he would kill himself before he touched her.

Because she wasn’t a siren. She did not mean to summon him, to awaken the monster within. She was a maiden – albeit a badass maiden – singing to herself in an ivory tower, oblivious. She wasn’t trying to lure any wayward princes to her breast, let alone an aged, decrepit bandit like himself.

Oh god, she was so beautiful. Full of life, brevity, wit. She was fire, a dancing flame, and he craved to touch her, burns be damned. She beckoned him to step out of the darkness, and he was caught in that in-between world, lukewarm, torn in half by the cold invite of apathy and the burning touch that was Ellie.

She tainted his dreams. In sleep, he fell prey to his subconscious, deprived of control. He’d make her gasp, moan his name. He’d taste her, touch her, drink her in – greedy, selfless – giving her pleasure and taking pleasure from her cries. She’d taste sweet, mouth-watering, her scent filling his head like a cloud of arousal. She’d clutch him tight, surprisingly strong, her breathless whimpers roiled in his gut. She’d toss and turn, her small body unable to contain the pleasure he breathed into her.

He’d awake, burning to the bone, achingly hard, and sick with shame. He never touched himself. They lived in the same house, and walls are thin. He didn’t dare – not when he was awake. Not when he was in control.

He got out of bed, willing his traitorous body to behave. He needed to make breakfast, get his mind off her.

The kitchen was bare, cold morning light streaming through the windows. Joel grinned – Ellie’s sketchbook still spread across the table from the night before. She’d taken to drawing, having run out of comicbooks long ago. She wasn’t half bad either, drawing what she knew – herself and Joel, and a brown-skinned girl who Joel assumed was Riley. She drew them on adventures, though Ellie always adamantly denied that her characters resembled real-life people in any way. Joel knew better; her sketchbook was filled with clever doodles of past conversations.

His fingers trailed over the spine of the sketchbook, debating. She didn’t like showing him her drawings until they were finished, but he was curious. A moment’s contemplation – he flipped open the book.

His heart tugged fondly as he looked through her sketches – she was so talented, capturing life and beauty with her pencil.

He turned the page – and froze.

A rough sketch, naked limbs wrapped in a passionate embrace. Hair wild and disheveled, ecstasy written across the woman’s face. Possessive hands clutching her waist, tangled in her hair.

The man…

No. He was imagining things.

Joel closed the sketchbook quickly. He shook his head, trying to rid his mind of the image… the image of him… and Ellie…

He rummaged through the cupboards for food, biting his cheek, steeling his will. It was not him in that sketch. He – he needed to make breakfast.

Joel was halfway through warming a can of beans and bacon when Ellie crashed clumsily down the stairs, still rubbing sleep from her eyes.

“Mornin’,” she yawned, stretching like a cat.

Joel looked up, and nearly dropped the spatula in his hand.

Mid-stretch, he caught a glimpse of her belly, pale with freckles, panties riding low on her hips. Bare thighs – small, powerful – and the taunting ‘v’ of her sex, auburn curls peeking out from the edge of her underwear.

He swallowed hard, unable to look away, his mouth suddenly too dry.

With the completion of her yawn, Ellie’s arms dropped, and the large sweatshirt she wore fell back over her thighs, shielding her from his perverted eyes.

She trudged over to him, seemingly unaware of his current dilemma.

“Yo, you’re burning the beans,” she said, taking the spatula from his hand.

The touch of her lithe little fingers jolted him to life. He snatched the spatula back from her, ignoring her pout of protest.

“I’m makin’ them fine,” he insisted, just as the smell of charred beans reached his nose. “Oh shit.”

He mixed them quickly, scraping the burnt beans off the bottom of the pan.

“Told ya so, old man,” she snapped playfully. “I mean, I knew your eyes and ears are supposed to go – but your sense of smell?”

“I can smell just fine,” he retorted gruffly. “It’s not my fault I get distracted by your crashin’ down the stairs every mornin’. Always gotta make sure you don’t break your neck.”

“Sorry I’m not a ballerina,” Ellie remarked, flippant.

Her eyes flitted to the table, spotted her sketchbook, and narrowed. Joel’s stomach flipped. He’d put it back the way it was – how did she notice?

“Soup’s ready,” he interjected before Ellie could say anything.

She retrieved two bowls from the cupboard.

“Serve it up, oh master chef,” she said, plopping down at the table.

Joel poured a hearty serving into each bowl.

“Quit complaining,” he said, sitting beside her. “You love my cooking.”

“Burnt beans are better than no beans,” she quipped, eyes twinkling.

Her thigh grazed his under the table, and he tensed immediately. Ellie dug into her breakfast, apparently not noticing, but she didn’t move her leg either. Joel tried to eat, but the food felt mushed, tasteless in his mouth. All he could focus on was the branding heat of her bare thigh against his. He cursed internally, wishing he had dressed for the day, wishing he was wearing jeans because jeans constrict, and sweatpants leave little to the imagination.

“What’s wrong,” Ellie said, eying Joel curiously. “You’re awfully quiet today.”

“Just not that hungry, that’s all,” he said, pushing his dish forward. Indeed, his stomach felt in knots.

“You sure?” Ellie asked around a mouthful of beans. Joel nodded. “Well, can I have ‘em?” He nodded again.

Quick as a flash, she stole his plate, shoveling food into her mouth. Joel let out a laugh, genuine, his eyes crinkling at the edges.

“Well damn,” he chuckled. “Slow down, we got plenty of food, girl.”

Ellie gave a noncommittal grunt, continuing to inhale her plate of beans. Within seconds, she was finished. She stood, and Joel looked away, not trusting himself to keep his eyes from wandering. Ellie took the dishes to the sink, wiping them down, and rinsing with very little water in order to conserve resources.

“We gonna go hunting today?” she asked.

Joel turned to look at her. She was standing on her tiptoes, back to him, trying to put the dishes back on the top shelf. Her shirt rode up, and he could see the sweet curve of her ass, little dimples peeking out at him. His heart pounded in his chest as she balanced on one foot, reaching as high as she could. She let out a frustrated huff, and promptly climbed up on the counter, clearly flashing Joel in the process. His mouth went dry, his pants feeling a smidge too tight, as he watched the muscles of her legs work to balance on the narrow counter.

“There,” she said triumphantly, putting the dishes in their place.

She turned, and Joel’s eyes snapped up to her face. He hoped she hadn’t noticed him looking.

“Uh, a little help, please?” she commanded, expectant, holding her hand out to Joel.

He grit his teeth and got to his feet, shuffling awkwardly to stand before her. She looked down at him, a grin on her face.

“You know what, I actually kinda like it up here,” she said. “I’m taller than you, for once.”

Joel rolled his eyes, snorting.

“Cm’here, squirt,” he smirked, reaching up to grab her waist.

“Drop me, and you’re dead, fucker,” she warned.

“Shouldn’ta hopped up there in the first place,” he countered, desperately trying to ignore the feeling of her soft curves beneath his fingers.

Ellie’s eyes sparkled with amusement, and it hurt his heart to look at her.

Slowly, carefully, he lifted her.

Her hands grasped his shoulders, digging into the corded muscle, and she let out a little gasp, unable to tear her gaze away from his eyes.

He lowered her down, gentle, her body sliding against his, warm and inviting. She was pressed close, too close, and he couldn’t keep himself from reveling in the feel of her. They were chest to chest, her small, soft breasts pressed against him, and _god_ he could feel her nipples through her shirt, pebbled and wanting. Her face and neck flushed beautifully, almost obscuring her freckles, and her lips parted in the prettiest little “o,” and Joel couldn’t will his body to behave – he relished in her warmth, her rosy cheeks, the sinful sight as she licked her lips.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, her feet touched the floor.

“Oh,” she huffed, a small stunned noise.

“ _Ellie,”_ he breathed to her – a warning, a plea, an apology – the churning in his gut almost too much to bear. She _had_ to feel him, hard against her stomach – there was nowhere to turn, he couldn’t hide, couldn’t run –

She rolled her eyes, her fingers threading through his hair, sending shivers in their wake.

“God, you’re so dumb.”

She pulled him down, pressing her lips to his in a heated kiss, possessive and hungry. A gasp stole from his chest, his arms wrapping around her instinctively, as if they’d always belonged there, protecting her, holding her. She nipped at his bottom lip, eliciting a throaty groan, and his hands tightened their grip, digging into her soft flesh, and she kissed him harder, deeper.

His hands cupped her ass, lifting her to sit on the counter, and she laughed, a beautiful ringing sound.

“Took you long enough,” she snarked, running her hands down his chest, and he shuddered under her fingers. “I’ve been flashing you for-fucking-ever.”

Realization washed over him, and Ellie laughed again.

“You lil’ minx,” he growled, kissing her, smiling against her lips. “I thought that sketch looked mighty similar…”

“Seriously, you haven’t noticed me staring at you while drawing?” Ellie asked, exasperated, pulling Joel closer.

He shook his head, tracing her curves with his hands, Ellie’s breath dropping shallow at the touch. She kissed along his neck, tongue darting out to taste the salt of his skin. Her lips at his ear.

_“Did you hear me panting your name? Through the walls at night.”_

Trailing her lips across his jaw.

_“Moaning as I touched myself?”_

Her hips grinding against him.

_“Wishing it was you.”_

A harsh groan escaped his lungs, and he buried his face in her neck, licking, biting, tasting her skin. Gasps of pleasure met his ears, her small fingers digging into his back, pulling him closer as she opened her legs for him, and he slotted between her thighs, hands exploring the bare skin of her waist, pushing her sweatshirt up and out of the way.

She trembled beneath him, more vibrant and alive than he could’ve ever dreamed. Fantasy had nothing on the warm, panting, flushed Ellie jerking under his fingers, moaning at his touch. She tangled her arms around his neck, using leverage to grind herself against him, achingly slow, her breath shuddering against his skin, sending bolts of lust straight to his cock.

His hands gripped her thighs, hard enough to bruise, and he pulled her against him – rough, demanding – moving with her, sliding his cock against the heat of her sex, her arousal soaking through her panties. She was so slick, so warm – his teeth latched to her neck, nibbling, laving at the pale flesh, and she shivered against him, the feel of his rough beard curling tendrils of desire in her gut.

“Oh _fuck,”_ she panted, her erratic breath tickling his ear. “ _Joel.”_

An uncontrollable growl rose from within him, her scent invading his mind, her heat drowning him, her stuttered breath robbing him of all strength. A strange possessive being churned in his chest, and suddenly he had to know – he had to _taste,_ to feel her shudder under his tongue.

He fell to his knees, ignoring the creak of his bones, and kissed along her thighs, tonguing at the bruises already forming from his fingers – the beast inside purred, a brand upon her skin, claiming her.

“You don’t have to--,” she began, cheeks flushed, embarrassed but betrayed by the undeniable longing in her eyes.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, the whiskers of his beard tickling the sensitive skin of her thighs. “I wouldn’t be down here if I didn’t want to be.”

She blushed deeper, clearly uncertain.

He kissed her navel, tongue swirling patterns on the taught muscles, trailing lower, mouthing at the waistband of her panties.

“I wanna taste you, baby,” he said, lips skimming along the apex of her thighs, catching the cloth of her panties between his teeth, nipping playfully. She was unbearably wet, the slickness of her sex leaking down her thighs, the heady, sweet smell invading his nostrils, fogging his mind with lust.

“ _Nfh, Joel!”_ a sharp breath stealing from her lips, her hands shooting up to tangle in his silver hair.

“Please,” he asked, looking up, holding her gaze.

“ _Fuck,_ yes,” she nodded slightly, breathing shallow and gasping.

His fingers moved to pull down her panties, slowly dragging that damned scrap of cloth out of the way to reveal a lovely ‘v’ of auburn curls, her lower lips swollen with arousal. He groaned at the sight, so fucking perfect, blood rushing to his cock, unbearably hard from her scent, her beauty.

Ellie’s hands pulled out of his hair, reaching up to cover her own face, shy.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he rumbled, licking her leaking juices off her thighs. “ _Fuck_ , you’re so damn beautiful.”

_“Joel.”_

He buried his tongue in her searing cunt, hungry – starving – to taste her arousal – nosing, tracing, sucking her clit. Her hips jerked in his hands, and the most beautiful sound stole from her throat – breathy, surprised, greedy. Her fingers threaded through his hair, twitching nails against his scalp, her body unable to contain the overwhelming sensations running through her veins. He kissed her, fucked her with his tongue – devouring, consuming, reckless to bring her pleasure.

She breathed his name like a prayer, reverent and in awe – moaned his name like sin, rolling dirty off her tongue. He drank her in, driving her closer to the brink of orgasm, desperate to make her tremble, praise him, curse him – anything she could give, he would take. Her juices flooded into his mouth, but it wasn’t enough to quench his thirst, his _need_ for her.

“Oh fuck, Joel, I’m gonna--,” she quivered beneath his tongue, muscles tensing as her thighs clenched, unable to close, spread open obscenely wide by his broad shoulders.

He held her hips in place, strong hands gripping her flesh as she bucked uncontrollably, pushed over the edge, her inner muscles contracting around his tongue, trying to pull him deeper, a wordless cry painting her lips. Eyes clenched tight, a desperate expression furrowing her brow, the breath punched out of her lungs. An image of torturous ecstasy.

He fucked her through it, lapping at her sex until she was a twitching mess, her clit too sensitive, driven mad by sensation. When he was absolutely certain he’d wrung every bit of pleasure from her body, he pulled away, kissing up her stomach as she panted beneath his lips.

“Oh god, that was…” she managed to say, going limp as endorphins flooded her system. She seemed unable to finish her thought.

Joel grinned, wiping the back of his hand across his face, mopping up the remainder of her juices that clung to his beard. She watched him, lucid, and appeared to flush even darker red at the sight. Biting her lip, she reached out, circling her dainty fingers around his wrist, pulling his slick hand to her face.

Her pink tongue darted out, licking her own juices off of his palm, and arousal clouded his vision, his mind completely blank except for _Ellie,_ her feel, her smell, her touch. She took his fingers into her mouth, sucking, swirling her tongue around him, and _god_ the look of satisfaction on her face… his sweatpants felt much too tight, but she just kept going, bobbing her head, the heat of her mouth almost searing, so wet and soft.

“Fuck, _ngh,_ Ellie,” he panted, hips involuntarily jerking against her, his cock achingly hard, and she gasped, her cunt still swollen and sensitive, slick and ready from arousal.

“Bed,” she commanded, her hands grabbing his ass, pulling him flush against her sex, only the cloth of his sweatpants separating his cock from her tight heat. “ _Now.”_

He obeyed, eliciting a squeak as he lifted her up, her legs instinctively latching around his waist for leverage, the muscles of her thighs contracting deliciously under his fingers. He carried her up the stairs, effortlessly, and he thanked whatever deity listening that his back didn’t throw out from the strain. He knew Ellie would never let him live it down. She already made enough cracks about his age as it was.

But age also meant experience, and he would use every ounce of knowledge he had to make her come again and again, until she begged him to stop.

They flopped down on the bed, and she giggled, stretching like a cat in the sun, her shirt riding up around her waist, her belly-button a cute dimple on the smooth expanse of her stomach. She looked at him, eyes alight with mischief and lust, as she reached out, looping her fingers in the waistband of his sweats, pulling him toward her.

Her fingers crept under his shirt, yanking the fabric up, and he went willingly, allowing her to pull his shirt off over his head. He trembled beneath her gaze, feeling unnecessarily self-conscious as she drank in the sight of him. He’d been shirtless – hell, _naked –_ in front of who knows how many women, but for some reason, Ellie’s scrutiny mattered more than anyone’s. He wasn’t ashamed or anything, but he knew he was old, covered in scars, battered in too many places. She deserved someone youthful, golden skinned, unblemished.

Her fingers traced along the puckered scar from their first winter together, and his breath froze in his chest. There was a look in her eyes that he couldn’t interpret.

“I…,” he said, wanting to say something, anything, to alleviate the silence.

Ellie withdrew her hand, curling her legs up to wrap her arms around her knees. She looked uncertain, suddenly very hesitant.

“I – Joel,” she said, looking down and away.

Ice flooded through his veins, as all his darkest fears came true.

He pulled away, getting up from the bed, shame filling his lungs like freezing water.

“I’m sorry,” he said, stepping back, his voice near broken.

She looked up at him, confusion and concern in her eyes.

“What…?”

“I shouldn’ta--,” he felt incredibly bare before her. “You deserve better…”

She rose to her knees immediately, reaching out, pulling him to her, surprisingly strong.

“That’s not – fuckin’ dammit, Joel,” she muttered, her fingers twining between his own.

He couldn’t say anything, fear still clutching his heart.

“I love you, you big idiot,” she said finally, her other hand reaching up to cup his face, thumb tracing the greying hair of his beard. “I just – I didn’t know what this was to you. I don’t wanna be… I dunno, just a one-night thing.”

Understanding crashed over his head, and he suddenly felt incredibly stupid.

“Oh babygirl,” he pulled her against his chest, wrapping her in his arms. “God, I’m so fuckin’ in love with you it hurts.”

He kissed her, hard, trying to sear his heart against her lips. She had to know, be undeniably certain that he belonged to her – body, mind, and soul.

Her tongue danced across his lips, and he opened for her, kissing her deep, fingers exploring her body, possessive and demanding. Her moans shot through his heart, his cock hardening against her belly, and she canted her hips against him, her slickness obvious even through his sweatpants. Arousal curled in his stomach, and he knew once they started, he wouldn’t last long, his cock stiff to the point of pain – she was just so _fucking_ beautiful.

He had to see all of her, make her come again.

His fingers traced beneath her sweatshirt, and he pulled up, undressing her as she had him. A fierce blush colored her cheeks, making his gut clench with desire, but she stood before him proudly, defiant, her nipples hard in the cool air. His mouth watered, and he had to taste her, feel her moan and shake under his lips.

He laid her down on the bed, kissing down her neck, tonguing her collarbone, before finally mouthing at her breast, his tongue flicking the hard pebble of her nipple, and her hips bucked beneath him, her fingers tightening in his hair, desperate little moans spilling from her lips as he sucked and nipped at the delicate flesh. He could feel her trembling, assaulted by sensations, her body unable to make sense of the arousal aching in her loins.

With a small ‘pop,’ he let her breast out of his mouth, his cock hardening with lust and pride at the sight of the puffy pink flesh of her nipple, reddened and sensitive. He nuzzled her other breast, moving to suck the dark, rosy pebble into his mouth, tonguing and nipping, pulling a high-pitched, panting whine from Ellie’s lips. He felt her thighs clench together, desperately seeking some sort of friction, and he grinned into her flesh, his hand sliding down her stomach to her sex, his fingers slipping between her swollen lips, her heat near searing as he stroked her, tracing and fondling that secret button of nerves, making her cry out, chest heaving, unable to catch her breath.

He sucked harder, reveling in the soft flesh of her breast, stroking her folds faster. He slipped a finger inside, her tight wetness almost too much, before she relaxed around him, and he stroked her inner muscles, listening to her body, learning what she liked, what made her gasp and shudder. Soon, she was tugging at his hair, hands clenching against his scalp, as he fucked her open on his fingers, thumb gently stroking her clit, driving her closer and closer – she bucked and trembled beneath him, suddenly clenching, going still, every muscle in her body taught, eyes wide and head thrown back, her cunt convulsing, trying to take his fingers deeper, as she cried his name, a near-breathless sound.

She was so fucking beautiful, debauched, her hair mussed with sex, beautiful auburn spread across the sheets, and all because of him. The beast inside his chest purred its approval, urging him to fuck her, to make them finally one.

Through lidded eyes, she looked up at him, panting hard, lips cherry-bitten red and wet.

“I need you,” she breathed, her hand stroking him through his sweatpants, and he buckled, hovering over her on his elbows as her clever fingers made his blood boil in his veins.

She pulled down his pants, groaning at the feel of his cock in her hand, silken flesh on burning steel.

“Fuck me,” she said.

And he obeyed.

She gasped, a sharp cry, as he buried himself in her heat, going slow and patient, making him tremble in her arms. She clenched around him, too tight, and a ragged groan ripped from his chest, he pushed deeper, harder. Her body opened beautifully for him, arousal slicking her inner walls around his cock, and she was perfect, agonizing heat, a vice-grip as she stretched to accommodate him. 

“ _Ellie,”_ he groaned into her hair, shuddering against her body.

He was so deep, and she thrust her hips up, taking in more of him, groaning as she felt his cock hit something inside her. He fucked her slow, deliberate – though she urged him to go faster, her breathless whimpers almost making him give into her pleas. He held her hips, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise, and she shook under him, arms clenched tight around his neck, hands scrabbling to find purchase on the sweat-slick, corded muscle of his back. She bucked violently, a cry of surprise choking in her throat as he found that place inside her. He grinned, fucking harder, forcing pleasure from her body, nailing that spot with every thrust.

“ _Oh god,”_ she breathed into his hair, “ _Joel, I’m gonna come, oh god—“_

She clenched around him, tight and hot, her muscles contracting forcefully, milking his cock, trying to take him deeper into her womb. His vision blurred, the sensations almost too much, but he fucked her through it, a desperate need to elongate her pleasure as he drove his cock into her heat. She trembled in his arms, contractions subsiding, and she went loose and pliant beneath him.

She smiled at him, hazy and pleased, and suddenly, he was at the edge, pulling out, stroking himself once, twice –

“ _Ellie!”_

He shuddered, painting her stomach white with his seed, her scent assaulting his mind as he buried his face in her hair, her hands tracing down his spine, feeling his muscles twitch under her fingers. His orgasm rolled through him in pleasurable waves, stealing strength from his body, and he sagged against her, heavy and rough against her soft flesh. She ran her fingers through his hair, lips grazing his silvered temple, gentle and too much.

He kissed her deeply, sated and smiling against her mouth.

“I love you,” she breathed into him, holding him close, her small breasts pressing against his chest.

In that moment, he knew he would do anything for the strong, beautiful woman in his arms. She owned him wholly, completely. Forever.


End file.
